Leave Me Behind
by Lizard2
Summary: Angst, love, Archie, more angst; what more could a person want? -*Slash* warning-


**A/N:******This is an Archie P.O.V. that's meant to take place at the end of 'Retribution' - Archie/Horatio pairing. Hope you enjoy reading it - any and all feedback is very VERY welcome.

Oh yeah, and everyone take this test to find out which Hornblower character you are:

http://selectsmart.com/FREE/select.php?client=hornblower

I'm Archie! (is that a good thing or a bad thing?)

**LEAVE ME BEHIND**

_By Lizard_

I am nothing. He, he has so much to give to the world - the inimitable hero. I, merely one insignificant fan among a crowd of so many worthier men, women. In his shadow. No, I was never near enough to be in his shadow. Was I truly the 'best friend'? Or have I been deluding myself? Am I _still_ deluding myself in thinking that I could please him by doing this? Whatever the case, I will - _my_ best friend deserves it, and I am nothing. 

Think, you fool, think of all the things he has done for you. The countless number of times he has saved your life, when all seemed hopeless. When you had given up. When you doubted his constancy, his friendship, his love. When you were on the brink of purgatory and he wrenched you back, despite your pleas to be dead. And what have you done in return? Nothing. Oh, so you saved his life too, did you? _Well done_, Mr Kennedy. 

Useless. What have I ever done for the world? Caused disruption. Ruined plans. Had fits. Become scared. Fallen in love. He will succeed better without me - he will not have to 'baby-sit' me, as the other shipmates refer to it. Or will it be better if I watched his shining beauty from afar and provided support when it was desired?

Hah, seems I have been reduced to fucking boy yet again. But no - I will not deign to compare him with Simpson. At least I am intelligent enough not to delude myself. For I know that I was as important to him as he was to me. How ironic - the one area in life that I surpass him in knowledge and experience. By rights, I should be the one being chased after, him seeking every chance moment to steal a kiss. 

Am I being naive, presumptuous? Am I really that important to him? Am I the only one that he has..._shared_ with? What about all those months of separation? Perhaps he and...Bush? No, it cannot be. I have watched how he looks at my love, and I have seen admiration and jealousy only. No lust. Perhaps regret, that he is not as young and never will be._ I_ have felt old ever since I stepped onto the Indy and was placed in the hands of Simpson. But you, you brought such glorious sunshine into my life - sometimes the heat too intense to bear.

You are perfect. Some say not, but your imperfections are flawless as well. Your intelligence, your handsome looks, your incredible good fortune, your endearing innocence. I am not being foolish, for you _are_ innocent - you have never suffered true pain, never felt the grief of the insignificant. I dare say I am the only man who can own that the almighty Horatio Hornblower is innocent. I do not delude myself. I do _not_. I have _known_ him, as he has known me, as no other man has ever known. Something _that_ profound cannot have been experienced with more than one man. I have given him pleasure and fulfilment beyond any that he has experienced. I have outlived my purpose as regards him, my world. I am nothing. Second-hand goods.

What is there left to give to him, my purpose of living? An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A life for a life. I can give this one thing to the man who has rescued me. Horatio Hornblower, ever the righteous hero. Archie, ever the unacknowledged right-hand man in an adventure novel. He gets all the glory, deserves the glory, earns the glory, _is_ the glory. He doesn't need me, a pathetic, stupid weakling who is willing to be fucking boy to be near his love. His hero. His saviour. His Horatio.

Go, for I am nothing. Willing to be fucking boy, willing to die for you. I'm all but dead already - physically, mentally, emotionally. I'm a dried-up shell. Hollow and fragile. You can leave me behind and go forth. Do all those great things you do with such ease. I'll watch you from heaven and applaud whenever you succeed. Heaven, hell or purgatory, I do not know. _This_ feels like purgatory. My soul swings from pleasure to pain to joy to hatred to an insistent feeling of uselessness.

Well, I can be of use. I know you'll tell me not to - plead, beg, cry, hit me perhaps. But I know you'll be happier. I know you better than you know yourself. Take this gift and I hope you'll remember me. Leave me behind and be. Love.

~~~~####~~~~####~~~~####~~~~


End file.
